


Paper Moon

by thosefarplaces



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thosefarplaces/pseuds/thosefarplaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Survivor has a decision to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Moon

_It probably wouldn't hurt_ , you think. Or if it did, you wouldn't remember it, after.

That's the whole point.

You pace outside the Memory Den for so long that one of the guards – you don't know his name, although the patch on his fedora looks familiar – tells you you're driving him up the wall.

“Look, smoothskin, either go in or find yourself another piece of pavement to wear out. You're makin' my skin crawl. And that's sayin' something.” The semiautomatic hangs loose in his right hand. It's a request, not a threat. But they've been good to you, the people in Goodneighbor, and you don't want to cause trouble.

A few minutes later you're in the basement of the Third Rail. Magnolia is singing something that lingers just on the edge of familiarity. A bar here or there, the start of a phrase that catches your ear, before taking off in a new direction. Like so many other things since you woke up in the vault, it's recognizable and unrecognizable all at once.

Most people go to the Memory Den to relive their memories. You can understand that. There were some scenes, when you were younger, that you used to play out over and over again in your head until they were almost worn thin ( _a drive up the coast with Mom, the day you finished law school, the warmth of Violet's hand in yours at summer camp and the pounding in your chest that you tried to ignore_ ). But unlike the hollow-eyed man you've seen in the Den's pods every time you've come in, remembering was never a drug for you.

And since you woke up, you've been wondering if it would be better to forget.

Nate is gone. You miss him in your own way – not as a husband, though you never would have told him that, but as a friend. He's gone, and Shaun's gone, and almost every night you see it happen again and again. You thought finding Shaun would...not fix things, maybe, but make them easier. It would be a start to some new kind of life.

But now you've found him, and he's still lost to you.

You take a sip of whatever bottle Charlie's handed you. It tastes like shoe shine, and it takes an effort not to spit it out. The drinks here are different. The people are different. The sky is different. The  _world_ is different.

You're good at surviving, it turns out. And there's kindness here among these other survivors, rare, precious glimmers of it that you reach for whenever you find them. It's not the worst life you could've ended up with. Shaun doesn't need you any more. You're free to go wherever you want, do whatever you want, help people when you can.

So why bother remembering?

Why do you have to carry it all? What good is it knowing exactly the shade of blue that the sky's supposed to be, or what a burger used to taste like, or how it felt to walk down the street at sunset knowing that the worst thing that could happen tomorrow would be running out of milk? At least as long as the world didn't end. You don't feel 200 years old, but you don't feel like you belong here, either.

Dr. Amari could fix that. In a few hours, you could be just another wastelander. She owes you a few favors – she'd make sure the new memories were nice.

So why are you here at the bar instead of lying inside of one of the memory pods?

You're trying to figure out an answer when someone slides into the seat across from you.

“Geez, Blue, you gave me one hell of a slip. It took ages to figure out where you were – and finding stuff out's my job.”

Piper leans back against the tattered seat cushion and grins half-heartedly at you. You try to smile back, but she doesn't buy it. She wrinkles her freckled nose in a frown.

“Look, are you okay? I know you said you wanted to get some air, but when you didn't come back for hours...I got worried. What's going on?”

“Nothing. I...nothing. Sorry I worried you,” you say. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“If you say so.” She squints at you, clearly unconvinced, but something in your expression makes hers soften. “I gotta say, if one of the guards hadn't tipped me off, I probably wouldn't have come looking for you in here. Bars never really seemed like your thing.”

“They weren't. I just needed a place to...sit for a while.”

“You wanna get out of here, then?”

You nod. “Yeah. Let's go home.”

As you both stand up, Piper grabs your still-full bottle and sniffs it. She makes a face and pulls you away from the table. You head up the stairs into the dusky evening.

“Glad you didn't drink that,” Piper says. “Probably would've liquified your insides. Next time you feel like drowning your sorrows, ask Charlie for the fresh stuff.” She adjusts her cap, squinting into the fading sunset. “Did I ever tell you about the time someone tried to poison me?”

 

She has, but you let her tell it again. By the time you're back in Diamond City, you're nearly in stitches. This version's at least twice as animated as the first one was, and Piper takes a bow after the conclusion, grinning at you.

Publick Occurences is empty when Piper gets the door open. “Nat said she'd be over at a friend's place.”

“Oh. A sleepover?”  _People still have those?_

“What?” She's fishing around in the fridge for a Nuka Cola.

“Nevermind,” you say, slumping onto the couch.

But now you're lost in memories again.

Amari assured you the procedure would be straight-forward. And even if it did hurt, in the moment...how could it hurt more than the weight of the world you've lost?

So why the indecision?

Piper sprawls out on the couch beside you. You find your lips curving into a smile before you realize it. She smiles back at you, but there's something nervous to it. She takes off her hat and bunches it in her hands.

“Look, Blue, I...I've been meaning to talk to you, since you told me. You know, about finding Shaun?”

She's staring resolutely at her hat. This might be the first time you've seen Piper Wright hesitate about saying something.

“What is it?”

She sighs. “I just...I can't imagine what you're going through. Going from...y'know, your world, to this mess we've got is bad enough, but then your family...What I'm trying to say is, I know it's a lot. I know that's gotta hurt. Losing people...it never really gets easier.”

A few weeks ago, she told you about what happened to her father. About the way she brought down the men who did it. You wanted to reach out to her and hold her – not for the first time, but more strongly than ever before.

You didn't, though. You weren't sure what would happen. You never were, with any of them. ( _But none of them were Piper_ , part of you thinks.)

Now, she finally looks up at you, and it's her hand that finds its way to yours. She squeezes your hand gently. All of you feels a little warmer.

“What I wanted to say was that...I know you've lost more than I can imagine. More than almost anyone here could. But that I'm glad, in spite of it all, that you're still around.”

She spreads her free hand out at Diamond City, at Boston, at the wastes. “Think about all the people you've helped, Blue. Think about how many lives are better because we – because you – came along. I know it's not your world. You deserve better than all of this. But this world's lucky to have you in it.” She pauses, looks at the hat again, then looks up at you. “ _I'm_ lucky to have you.”

Her eyes are shining with the same earnestness you've seen every time she goes chasing off after a story. It's one of the things you always liked about Piper – that strength of belief.

You don't know why she asked you to come in for an interview after you met. Vault dwellers were a bit of a novelty, sure, but not  _that_ novel – not with Vault 81 so close to Diamond City. But you do know that if you hadn't been looking for Shaun, you might never have left Sanctuary. If you hadn't fought your way through Cambridge, you never would've made it to Fenway. And if you hadn't made it to that big green gate, you never would've met her.

It's hard living in the ashes of the world you used to know. But in a way, those memories made you who you are.

And they brought you here.

Piper jams the cap back onto her head and laughs softly. “Sorry if that was too much,” she stammers. “It was-”

“Piper?”

She stops and looks at you.

“I'm glad to be here.”

The smile that dawns on her face is worth more than all the dollars or caps in the world. You smile back. And because you don't want to forget, now, and because it seems right, you trace your fingers along her cheek.

When she kisses you, you know you're exactly where you're supposed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Magnolia is singing is something that used to be It's Only A Paper Moon.


End file.
